Grove Hell 2: All the Lawndale People
by Charles RocketBoy
Summary: Daria's escaped from Grove Hills and is now at Lawndale, using music into a coping strategy. Now she just has to survive a supermodel sister, a shattered family, psychotic lapses, the bizarre idiots at school... and Trent as a music teacher.
1. Chapter 1

**GROVE HELL 2: ALL THE LAWNDALE PEOPLE**

1.

One.

Two.

A-one two three go –

* * *

Grove Hills had, in the frightened tones of people who are expecting lawsuits or (worse) bad press, informed the Morgendorffer's that Daria had "run away" with a strange crew. So when Daria turned up at their house the next morning in the company of different strangers and with a dirt-covered skirt, Helen had screamed her head off.

After she found out Daria had just gone to a concert, Helen just screamed. A lot.

_"I can't BELIEVE you, young lady, this is COMPLETELY unacceptable you've put ME down, you've let your FATHER down and worst of all you've let YOURSELF down, you're going straight back to Grove Hills-"_

"Hur hur hur, she said we've gone down on someone. Heh heh heh heh!"

_"Do you think it's FUNNY, Daria?"_

"Heh heh, you think, like, they go down all the time in Australia and that's why they say it's Down Under? Dude, maybe that's why everyone called that guy Humungous-"

_"DARIA WILL YOU PAY ATTENTION"_

Jane had been invited in, treated with a mix of gratitude ("you brought our daughter home!") and suspicion ("what had you been doing with our daughter?"); Trent and Jesse were still in the Tank, treated mainly with suspicion. She'd stayed out of the slanging match but, at the sight of Daria shaking and gibbering, ran forward to separate the two and hurriedly explained to Helen what was going on.

Helen looked like she'd been gutted.

* * *

The music sheets were the usual mix of third-hand guitar teaching guides and 'grey' market popular songs. The guitar equivalent of 'do ray me' went into the opening chords of Come As You Are without warning. Daria went through it slowly and carefully; there was no speed or pace, but she was hitting each note perfectly.

This wasn't about the speed and pace though. This was about getting the technique right. Trent didn't get it, but he gave her the sheets and checked she was doing it right.

Without warning, he stole one sheet and dropped another in its place while she was halfway through it.

She righted herself in a second. He smiled.

"You should have just _said_ you hated it."

"I didn't..." Daria fumbled for the words. "I didn't want you to be disappointed with me. You'd spent all that money sending me to a school where you thought I'd fit in, and you were so desperate for me to fit in, and if I'd said anything you'd have wondered what was wrong with me."

"Sweetie, if we'd known, the first thing on our minds would be how we could help you. Do you really think we'd have been more concerned with finding faults with you?"

She didn't respond.

"Oh _god_."

The conversation limped on after that. The implications were something Helen couldn't bring herself to discuss, so she focused on the basics: Daria was out of Grove Hills and could go to Lawndale High like her sister, and they'd find her the best therapist they could. They'd even let her off the hook for her vanishing act, and they'd discuss everything else later, and how would she like this big wad of cash so she and Jane could go out and get themselves some lunch?

Jake didn't say a word. He just stared into space, the paper forgotten.

* * *

"Trent, that last sheet was the chorus from She'll Be Coming Round The Mountain."

"Yeah." He grimaced. "Don't tell anyone. It'll hurt my image."

"You're doing paid work. Now _that's_ hurting your image."

"Me and the guys came to an agreement about that. It was decided that teaching people to play the guitar was in the spirit of being a band."

"The extra beer money had nothing to do with it."

"No, it had a lot to do w- Oh." He smiled. "That's a good one."

Daria blushed. "Um, thanks."

All that time getting used to Trent, being able to use sarcasm without fear around him, and yet every time _something_ would make her all giddy and red again. Nothing could save her. Thinking about how every pair of jeans he owned had a hole in it – _the same hole_ – did nothing except focus her mind on his legs and... _other_ bits.

"You've done the..." He thought the term through. "...practice exercises, so time for the real playing. I got a new one in specially."

He'd got her the sheet music for Where Is My Mind.

She blushed again and hoped to god he thought it was a rash.

* * *

Quinn came in several hours after Daria had, an entourage of other popular kids trailing behind her.

She took one look at Daria and went back out, yelling that her parents had guests and they'd have to go to Sandi's instead.  
When she came back, begging her sister to tell her this was a weekend visit and she wasn't also going to Lawndale High now, Daria hugged her. The screams made her a happy Daria indeed.

In her absence, as Jane had warned her, Quinn had become a model for the Amazon Fashion Agency. The Agency had actually come to the school to talent scout, invited by the principal; that set alarms off in Daria's head, but the fact Quinn has now out at all the time and rarely at home was much appreciated.

Her mother was out even when she was in, constantly on the phone with her boss Eric. Lots of free time to read and watch TV! Heaven!

Dad kept trying to talk to her though, in between bouts of total silence. She was starting to miss his rages. They were embarrassing, true, but the silence just seemed like he wanted to rage but was bottling it up.

He used to rage about his father sending him off to military school, a place where he was isolated and alone and hated it.

After sending her to Grove Hills, she knew he wanted to rage at _himself_.

* * *

She started off slow and methodical. She always did at first.

But the music didn't _want_ to be slow.

Her heart synchronised with the beat. Her head and feet moved to the music of their own accord. Her eyes kept trying to close, to blot out everything that wasn't music.

By the time she'd reached the first lyrics, her playing was fast and loud and she was getting notes wrong and she was completely unpolished and the _passion _had Trent by the throat.

* * *

"Medication is a _possibility_, Mrs Morgendorffer," said Dr Jean-Michel, his voice forever pleasant and understanding. "However, there are some alternatives we can try first."

Helen looked put out about this, while Jack looked like he wanted to be relieved but didn't dare show it in front of his wife. Daria just sat by quietly. She knew her mother wanted her to be on medication. She hadn't said it to her but she'd overheard. Medication, after all, was the simple fix, the quick fix. Do that and the daughter will be magically fixed.

When Daria had been sent to Quiet Ivy for her first session with Jean-Michel, the first thing she'd done is ask him if he was going to recommend drugs. She remembered him smiling and making a bad joke about pot, before he assured her that counselling and therapy did not go for drugs first. ("Well, _competent_ counselling and therapy, but you can trust me, I have a soothing accent.")

"These outbursts of hers are the result of severe stress and anxiety, and have become ingrained in her. They're an attempt at a coping mechanism. The first thing we should try is to give her a better coping mechanism, a better way of dealing with her stress. Daria mentioned feeling relaxed and at peace at Alternapalooza when loud music was playing. Has she ever had any music lessons, or singing lessons?"

"She played the flute at age 6-"

Unnoticed, Daria grimaced at the memory.

"-and the violin for two months when she was nine – she learnt to read music quite fast. Her violin instructor said she had potential."

"Unfortunately," said Daria, "classical music lessons counts as culture, and trying to sell culture in Highland is as profitable as trying to sell Soylent Green to vegans. The debt collection agencies are still looking for him."

"I see," said Jean-Michel. "I recommend that Daria takes up music lessons again, preferably guitar lessons. It should provide a better way of letting go of her stress, and in difficult situations her mind can focus on music rather than be overwhelmed."

As luck would have it, Daria knew a suitable instructor.

Well, a potential instructor.

Well, a guy.

* * *

_"And you ask yourself – where is my mind? / Where is my mind?"_

Her voice wasn't suited for proper singing, it was either too flat or too harsh, but it suited her playing. She was started to scream the lyrics out, spitting them out like bullets, everything that had pissed her off and annoyed her about the week was being kicked out of her head and into her larynx.

_"WHERE – IS – MY – MIND"_

* * *

The first day at school left Daria confused. Everyone looked excited and there were banners everywhere and she was sure she'd spotted a local journalist setting up.

"It's going to be a real letdown for them when they meet me."

"You've had the misfortune to arrive on the same day that Tommy Sherman is coming to visit," said Jane.

"Who's that?"

"A guy who played football so well, he went into a coma for a week. We're dedicating a goal post to him."

"Only a post? Budget cutbacks must be fierce."

"I'll tell you the whole sordid story after you've done your mandatory psychiatric test. You'll be put in the self-esteem class after you take it."

"How do you know?"

Jane looked at Daria. "Don't make me answer that, amiga. Don't worry, I know the answers to get out."  
"You got out?"

"Nah, but I didn't have anything to do after school until now. I'll miss the afternoon nap though."

Daria's locker turned out to be the one Tommy Sherman had spent half an hour leaning on. There was a _dent_.

Later that day, the goal post had its coronation and Li announced to the students & alumni that Tommy Sherman would be taking over as coach to lead the Lawndale Lions to the state championship. From the strangled cry from the stage, it seemed she hadn't mentioned this to the _existing_ coach until now.

* * *

Daria finished the song with her hair and skin soaked with sweat, her breath ragged, her throat sore.

"Trent, I think I've been tricked into doing work. I am a traitor to my generation."

Trent was standing there, slackjawed.

"Daria. That was amazing."

"Oh."

And there was the blush again.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

The sound of a broken, wailing man filled the house – which was not entirely a problem since Daria was reading a Mikhail Bulgakov and it worked as mood music, but she figured she should check it out anyway.

What she found was her parents in the kitchen, Jake screaming "What have I done? Oh God, what have I done…"

"It's all right, Jake. We'll get through this as a family."

"What's wrong?" asked Daria.

"Your father-"

"_Nothing's wrong!_" His face was masked by an insincere smile. "Absolutely nothing! Jake Morgendorffer Consulting is doing _great_, kiddo! But how are you doing? Everything's fine, right? The ol' guitar playing going okay? You're okay, right? _Right?_"

Daria paused, took in her father's desperation, and went for sarcasm rather than think about it.

"Well, Quinn's at work _and_ there's still some a whole night before school starts. This is the closest I will ever get to sheer bliss."

"THAT'S GREAT!" The look in his eyes was starting to scare her. "Say kiddo, I'm going to be having a go at brushing up my rusty cooking skills – how'd you like to sit in, learn some tricks from the old man? We never taught you how to cook, now's your chance! What do you say?"

Her father's cooking rarely – if ever – turned out edible. Government biohazard teams put themselves on standby whenever he was seen buying pasta. There was no way in God's brown burbs that she wanted to suffer cooking lessons from him.

But he so clearly _needed_ to do it. And she knew why.

"I dunno if I can find time in my busy social schedule, but I'll try and fit it in."

That was it for family time: back to the book. Quinn eventually came in but headed straight for her room, which wasn't the first time she'd done that and which Daria found odd. Quinn always talked about her day, whether you wanted it or not.

Daria still couldn't believe Quinn had signed on with Amazon Modelling, because that would mean believing Principal Li would invite the firm to school and let them get students to pimp themselves out. (Budget cutbacks _must_ be fierce) But that's how it seemed to go, and her parents had given in to Quinn's pleading, and now Quinn was off being _paid_ to be bouncy and shallow. There was a God and He picked favourites.

Oh well. Tomorrow after school, she had another music lesson. Another hour in Trent's company. She could make her own damn Heaven.

* * *

Ms Li had come in to art class that morning to order- I mean, _request_ that students get involved in a state-wide art contest about "Student Life at the Dawn of the Millennium". She said some other stuff too, but Daria tuned it out. In her head, AC/DC was playing – just the thing to get her relaxed enough to paint – and who wanted to stop the rock?

After the principal had gone, Daria vaguely heard Brittany squeak "I've got a great idea for a poster!".

On instinct: "Me too. Mine's going to be about cheerleading."

"Oh no! Now what'll _I_ do?"

High score!

* * *

Jane was the best artist in school and had a rapport with art teacher Miss Defoe – both of which meant Jane felt compelled to enter the contest. She'd been grouchy until she'd realised her painting could show student life _sucked._

"_Yes_," said Daria.

"Got any ideas of what I can do?"

"No."

"Come on, you're the most negative person I know."

"A photo of Kevin and Brittany, and the words 'America's Future'."

"That's _too_ negative."

"Ahhhh, this is going to bug me... I'd blackmail you into helping me brainstorm, but you've got practice with Trent so that's out. Hey, you think Amelia might have any ideas? I could give her a call."

"Good choice. Underneath her sweet and helpful exterior beats the heart of an angry misanthrope."

"Course it does, she spent time with you. I give you a month before Mr O'Neill gives up on life."

"Three weeks, and loser buys pizza."

"You're on!"

* * *

An objective observer would have noticed that Trent wasn't so much teaching as putting sheets in front of Daria and watching what happened. If you asked Trent, he'd say he didn't really _think_ about playing guitar – "I just, y'know, touch the strings" – and having to think about it in a way people could understand made his head hurt.

But Daria kept turning up and wanting lessons. So who was he to deny?

Daria, for her part, was consumed by thoughts of Trent and his proximity until she started on Metallica's One. Within seconds, her entire mind was focused on the song. There was a long, long instrumental bit, but it wasn't that complicated – she was hitting more notes than normal. Simple.

And then the lyrics, sneaking up with their implications without any warning.

"_I can't remember anything/Can't tell if this is true or dream/Deep down inside I feel to scream..."_

That was too close for comfort. That was the part of her life she was trying to get past.

"_This terrible silence stops me"_

Her voice was starting to get louder.

"_Now that the war is through with me/I'm waking up, I cannot see/That there's not much left of me" _

Oh god. No.

"_Nothing is real but pain now"_

Trapped in that room, in that body, that prison of meat that dragged her around a gulag where she was hated and looked down on and she'd learnt to hate reading, learnt to hate herself, no hope

"HOLD MY BREATH AS I WISH FOR DEATH! AMELIA WAKE ME!"

The guitar dropped from her hands as she fell to her knees, and Trent ran to keep her from falling further. She was straining for breath and her eyes were watering and in the corners of her mind she recognised this was panic.

And then she noticed his arms were around her, steadying her, his voice softly reassuring her that she was safe, she was among friends, it was going to be alright.

"I-I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – I looked _stupid_..."

"Shhh."

"I didn't realise it'd be – and it just – _aaaahhhh_"

"It'll be okay. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

It was a little while before they noticed the rash creeping up her face. By that point, she'd stopped whimpering. When the rash was noticed, Trent – to his embarrassment – tried to leap back from her from a sitting position.

"Whoa!"

"...oh. Great."

"Daria, I think you better take a break and sit down somewhere. We've got some bottled water... somewhere round here."

Embarrassment was clawing at her, but she could see the guitar (it had scratches on it, Mum was going to freak about that) and above her, on the stand, she knew the music sheet was waiting. Gloating.

"No." She grabbed the guitar and got to her feet. "No, I'm finishing this."

"Dar-"

"I've started, I'm going to finish. I want to get past Grove Hills, then _I get past it_." She drew in a breath. "And crank up the speaker's volume."

* * *

Next day at school, Jane had finished her entry: a thin, lovely girl puking into a toilet.

"I call it 'Beauty is in the Gall of the Be-Throw-er'," she said proudly. "I'm sending Amelia a photo of it. She mentioned anorexia and, hey, since I've only got visuals to go from..."

"I think that girl must've heard your title."

"You may mock, but this makes a statement. It attacks our beauty obsessed culture. It shows us the price of our standards. And it's disgusting, so it _has_ to be art."

"Amelia may have expected you to be more subtle." Daria shrugged. "Then again, she isn't in daily contact with you, so she doesn't know any better."

"Nice girl. We talked for ages, she's always interested in what I'm up to."

Daria suppressed a smile. Amelia's crush on Jane was serious and sweet, and not a laughing matter. (But Jane being unaware bloody well was)

Defoe came over to check Jane's painting, her mouth in a big, expectant smile... which then drooped.

"Oh Jane. I thought you were going to take the contest _seriously_."

Jane blinked. "I did-"

"This was a great opportunity for you, and you waste it with a crude joke? I expected better, I really did."

"It's not – I didn't-" Jane sounded upset, the first time Daria had her upset; upset and ashamed. "I thought I... I meant to-"

"She's making a statement about the price girls have to pay to fit our society's standards of beauty," cut in Daria.

Defoe glanced at Jane. "Really?"

"Well, I was trying to." She couldn't meet Defoe's eyes. "I guess I got carried away..."

"_I_ apologise, Jane, I should've trusted that you were doing this for a reason. It'll go in the contest." She smiled apologetically. "Well, assuming Li will let it through, you know what she's like."

"Yeah, it's certainly hard to miss."

It was obvious to Daria that Li wouldn't let it through. Looking at Jane, it was obvious to her too – but Daria knew that wasn't the problem. The problem was failing someone.

First her dad, now Jane. This was not something she knew how to handle.

"Jane..."

"Ah, it's fine. I don't have to fear I'm bringing glory to Laaawndale High, which is a weight off my mind."

"Right. You want to go for pizza after school?"

"We usually do."

"Yeah, but... er... Can you help me out here and just say yes?"

Jane smiled, getting what Daria was offering. "Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

3.

"And _WHY_ are we going to enGAGE in simulated COMBAT? Daria?"

"Because no high school education is complete until you've chased your fellow students around the woods with toy guns?"

Mr DeMartino chuckled – not a comforting sound. "Your sarcasm _amuses_ me, Daria. I HOPE it provides you COMFORT when you're COWERING in a foxhole."

When he mentioned "parent volunteers", Daria decided she'd have preferred the foxhole. Luckily, between Quinn's absences at work and Daria's own refusal to talk over, it wouldn't prove difficult to keep the parents from knowing. Safety was assured.

* * *

"SURPRISE!"

Quinn gave a small scream and scampered off, and for once Daria was in agreement. Mum _and_ Dad. In full combats. Where everyone could see them.

"What are _they_ doing here?" asked Jane.

"When I called, your father was UNNATURALLY available for the SCHOOL BOARD meeting," grated DeMartino, "and ASKED if he and your mother could VOLUNTEER MORE. You APPEAR to be one of the FEW students with parents who GIVE A DAMN about EDUCATION!"

"Of course we care," said Jake, beaming away, "right kiddo?"

Coach Sherman, the second teacher overseeing, snorted. "Yeah, cos we needed more weirdoes on this trip. Let's go kick _some pansy asses _already!"

"The Great White Shark exhibit is just a short walk away," whispered Jane. "Just sayin'."

"This is my parents trying to absolve their crippling guilt over Grove Hills. If I go along with it, they might not feel the need later." Daria shot a glance at her friend. "My mother is talking about taking me shopping. For _clothes_. At least here, I can shoot Quinn and get away with it."

Daria and Quinn were on the same team.

"Quinn, ever get the feeling that God personally has it in for you?"

Her sister almost leapt out of her fatigues; a quick glance to make sure Sandi and her other friends hadn't seen it (they had), then a harried "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met before, buh-bye now!"

"But _cousin_ Quinn, your _father_ up there wants us to work together like a _family_!"

You got your pleasures were you could. And with her father sticking close to her during the exercise, those opportunities were few and far between.

"This is great fun, right Daria? Running around, playing soldier, the thrill of the chase and the camaraderie and the dirt and the humiliation of knowing you'll nev- I _mean_ the chance to bond as a family!"

"I think we'd have a better chance if Mum wasn't on the other team," said Daria. "I don't want to shoot her, but I wouldn't be very enthusiastic then would I?"

"I…guess not… Is someone telling you that you're not enthusiastic enough? You shouldn't listen to them Daria! You're perfect just the way you are!"

She stopped and stared. "Dad, every other family conversation has been about me needing to be more outgoing. I actually _counted _them when I was twelve. I started to be more withdrawn to see if I could beat my previous monthly record."

"Oh."

He looked so crestfallen that Daria felt a pang of guilt.

"Kiddo, we just… _Oh look an enemy!_"

Daria looked up and saw Upchuck, the most annoying lech in school, heading through the forest on his own, with no way to dodge any fire in time. She grinned nastily.

"You know, you're right. This _is_ great fun."

Bang.

* * *

"VALOUR'S MINION CARVE OUT HIS PASSAGE!"

Daria was enjoying herself now she'd got into the swing of things – the team had been left long behind, with only her hurrying father to provide cover, and she was cutting a swathe through the Blue Team hordes. Everyone had ignored her at school, so the idea she was going to come screaming at them like camouflaged death was not something they'd contemplated.

Four people were down already and she was nearing the flag. Jeffy had been her last victim, screaming briefly as his face became splattered with red. Now, nothing could stop -

Projectiles whizzed past her, front and back, cutting her off – fire from concealed positions, an ambush!

"DAD! COVERING FIRE!"

She barrelled her way to the cover of the trees, but the abrupt ending of gunfire noises and a cry of "Those paintball thingies _hurt!_" told her that her father was down. She was behind enemy lines and on her own. But now she was behind cover; they'd have to come out to get her, and she was light and small enough to crawl around quietly.

A bored Jane and someone she could never be bothered to remember the name of were sneaking out of cover, watching for her. A bit further and she could run behind them and grab the flag. (She'd rather not shoot Jane and hoped Jane would feel the same) From the other side of the flag, she could hear Coach Sherman and Brittany.

Which was odd, because Sherman had been all "rarr kick asses I have a penis". Why was he remaining in an ambush position?

"You got some good tactics under the blonde of yours! What _other_ skills ya got, hmm?"

Oh.

_If I take the time to shoot the creep, the others can get the drop on me. On the other hand, I get to shoot him. Decisions, deci—Right, shoot it is._

"MEANT TO BATHE IN REEKING WOUNDS!"

Tommy Sherman squealed as paint spattered him from head to toe – "those paintball thingies hurt!" – and Daria spun round for the flag. Jane and Whatsisface were both turning, rifles raised; suddenly Jane was in front of Whatsisface, taking the shot meant for Daria ("OW!") and Daria felt a wave of gratitude. In one bound, she reached the flag…

…and, before taking it, turned her gun on Whatsisface.

"BEFORE MY BODY I THROW MY WARLIKE SHIELD!"

He went down in a hail of red paint… and so did Jane.

"Oh. Sorry."

"When I said I thought you should get into art…"

Daria grabbed the flag at the same time that a shot hit her right in the chest, knocking her off the flag's rock. As she fell, she noticed the shooter had been her own mother, smiling triumphantly. After she'd fallen, her mother gave out a worried cry, only now realising that it was probably a bad idea to shoot her own daughter when she was standing on something.

_And yet, still the most successful bonding session she's ever been part of._

* * *

The sky had torn open and rain came down on everyone, but as Daria had won the game all the students had been able to reach the "Hanoi Hilton" rest stop. The adults, not wanting the hassle of supervision, had sent up tents.

"Now where was all that pessimism and disdain we all come to love?" asked Jane.

"I had an excuse to hurt people and get points for it. I have no guilt, Jane. I am in paint steeped so far that, should I wade no more, returning would as tedious as going."

"I've noticed a few of your victims are giving us the evil eye…"

"Not surprising. I beat them, while having the bad manners to be unpopular and plain-looking. And worse, I made them listen to Macbeth outside of English class."

"Yeah, that's gotta be against the Geneva Convention." She smirked. "Brittany looked pretty happy though."

"Sherman was sleazing on her."

"Ah. I'd say report it, but Li would only believe it from Brit. And… well, far as I know nobody wants to make a big deal when it happens."

"Course not. He's a _football_ person." She grimaced. "He's going to find some petty revenge, isn't he?"

"Hey, it ain't a good deed unless you get punished."

Daria stole a glance at Quinn, over in the corner with her Fashion Mafia mates. Quinn was splattered with paint and mud, but seemed in good cheer. Key word 'seemed'.

"I am sensitive to my sister's moods, and that's the look of a Quinn who really wants to tear strips off someone but is holding back."

"Wow, she's a mess. You think that's the new look she's modelling?"

"Looks like someone hit her hard…" She noticed that, when Quinn turned away from Sandi, the other girl stole a smug glance at her. "Ah. It appears Quinn was the victim of 'friendly fire', but without the having friends part. It's weird, she'd normally be more passive-aggressive about that."

"Take your word for it. Hey, look, the Three J's are playing Spin the Bottle. Wanna go ruin the game by joining it?"

"_Yes_."

* * *

DeMartino and Jake were drinking the afternoon away, 'happily' comparing horror stories about their upbringings and military school lives.

And then Jake abruptly asked: "How's Daria doing?"

"She's RUDE, smart-MOUTHED, and can NEVER let an opportunity for CUTTING people DOWN go past…" He swigged another drink. "And GOOD FOR HER! Those PROCESSED SAUSAGES deserve it all!"

"Is she happy?"

He looked at Jake but said nothing.

"Because I'd sent her to military school, okay not an actual military school but you know, and that just messed her up like it did me and is she _happy_? I have to _know that_, Ant! Because this was the happiest I remember seeing her since she came back and that was… that was when she hurting people and…"

"I can't answer that, Jake."

"Right, no, that's a father's job." He stared at the empty beer flask. "Pity she doesn't have one."


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Daria had been all set for another session of blushing, being nervous, and otherwise indulging her hormones with Trenty goodness, but that was a bit hard when Jane was in the basement too, with paint and easel and a gleam in her eye.

"You better not be about to say 'I'm here to paint you'," said Daria, "or I'm going to play Spice Girls songs. This is not an idle threat."

"I'm _present _to paint you," said Jane.

"Well played. As will be Zig-a-Zig-Ah."

"Hey, the sound from your lessons was always good to work to, so I thought if I get to the source..."

Daria sighed. "You've been in an artistic funk since the state competition went wrong and you're trying to get back into the groove, but you don't want to say it out loud. At least, I hope that's it or I've just embarrassed us both for no reason, and that means I truly am my father's daughter."

"I can't be _my _father's daughter. I'm still at home."

With the face-saving jokes done, Daria was free to do a small act of kindness and Jane was free to rely on a friend. Trent, watching the whole thing in silence, said nothing but just went on with the lesson.

Soon, Daria was growling out the lyrics to Ace of Spades and Highway to Hell, mind blank of everything beyond the music, her voice unknowingly snapping into a depraved laugh as she reached _"But that's the way I LIKE IT baby/I don't wanna live forever!"_. And Jane furiously slashed at the canvas, trying to get the essence of the experience down, her Daria coming out in a series of screaming lines.

It could have gone on longer, until Daria was partway through the light relief section of the lesson, which just so happened to be Madness' House of Fun.

"_...balloons, with a featherlite touch/pack of party poppers that pop... in the... night..."_ She abruptly stopped singing."Trent. This song is about a boy buying condoms."

He stared, mortified. "It _is_?"

At least this time it wasn't just her blushing, though Jane's laughter was an unwelcome new touch.

That was as good as any point to end the lesson. With Jane into her painting, Daria felt it time to leave: she didn't want to interrupt her friend, and she _couldn't_ be around Trent after... well, she just couldn't. That... no. That was a whole area she didn't want to think about, not with Trent, not with _anyone_.

Sure, a lot of songs touched on sex and depravity, but doing it with rock and metal? That, she could handle. It fitted the beats. Her mind was shutting down for them. But that other song had a cheery beat, it was the light relief, it had snuck up on her when she was still conscious and could register embarrassment _and yes_, intellectually she knew this was dumb, but...

"Hur hur hur, so if they're balloons does he, like, blow them up, get it, hur h-"

No, NO. Control. Ace of Spades, middle bit – DURR-DUN beat of silence, DURR-DUN beat of silence, silence, dadadadaDUNNDUNNNDUNNN, dnnnnnnnnnn…

She was calm now. She had it under control. Once she got home, she'd be safe.

_Did I really just think that? I_ must _be sick._

* * *

At home, there was no relief: Quinn was back. Worse, whatever it was she was talking about with the parents, it was causing her mother to reminisce.

"You know, when I was in high school, I wanted more than anything to join the swim..."

"No! No! Please, not again!"

"I agree with Quinn, and damn you all for making me say that," called out Daria as she fled up the stairs.

Upstairs, she was safe. In her room, there was no hassle, no embarrassment, no scary thoughts of Trent and yeah she'll stop now thanks brain. Peace and a Walkman loaded with loudness, and the chance to write. Safe.

Then Quinn knocked on the door.

"Daria, are you in there?"

"No, I'm taking it easy in Tahiti for a few days."

"Oh." Quinn's voice was far too high. "That's very interesting, Daria, have you told Dr Whatsisname about that because I really think he'd like to know-"

_Oh god._ "I was joking."

"Oh! Hahahahaha!" Quinn nervously entered, viewing her sister as if she might bite. "Um... Daria, I need a little help with my Language Arts essay. Like, could you write it for me?

"And what's my motivation again?"

"Come on, Daria, we're sisters! We gotta stick together!" Quinn paused to think of a better tactic. "And you're so _smart_, and this essay's so important. Believe me, I would do it myself, but I have a date."

"When does the subject of compensation come up?"

"A hundred?"

" Twenty," said Daria on reflex. "What, _what?_"

"Daria, I work for _Amazon Modelling_ after school," smirked Quinn. "You think I'm living off allowance money?"

"Huh. Nice to see how education leads to success." She narrowed her eyes. "But that's still a lot. How important is this?"

"I... I need to get an A for a passing grade."

"...oh _god_."

"I know, right? And if I flunk out, Mum and Dad will pull me from the modelling job and you know what _that_ would do to my popularity? You think I can stay popular after losing something like that? I wouldn't even be on the B List, I'd be..." Quinn searched around for a suitably horrible comparison. "I'd be _you_."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll just be someone with a contagious skin disease." Pause. "You want to keep the job for popularity."

"Duh."

"What about the job itself?"

Quinn fell silent, a hurt look on her face, like Daria had insulted her.

"I know there's something you're not telling us. You've been acting weird-"

"A hundred and twenty," muttered Quinn.

"I'm not trying to hit you up for more, I'm..." Daria looked at her sister's expression and her protests fell away. "I'll do it for twenty. Just... remember I'm your sister, right?"

"Whatever."

When Quinn had left, Daria rushed immediately for her Walkman and the loudest, most violent tape she could find. Ten minutes of blissful peace and unconsciousness.

* * *

Two days later, and Daria's essay was in the Smart Thoughts column of the school paper. Her sister was downplaying it as much as possible – Daria had heard rumours that the essay had been written by "a brain", rumours which could only have been started by Quinn – but, contrary to Daria's entire damn life, Quinn was somehow _more_ popular after the essay.

"I had to _think and write_ like Quinn to do that," she complained to Jane. "I wrote about the importance of looking good for your esteem. I had to _research fashion_."

"But aren't you glad of the opportunity to know your sister better? (Don't answer that.)"

"In all honesty? Getting that close to her scared me. I had to approach the mindset of someone who really thought as shallow as that, and that's after this very uncomfortable conversation with Quinn and... I was happy holding my sister in contempt, but now I feel sorry for her. This experience has stolen my ability to _hate_."

"Wait, let's put that to the test, here comes Sandi Griffin!"

The Fashion Club trooped past, chattering inanely as Quinn once again downplayed her essay.

"It's comforting to know you outsourced it," said Sandi, "otherwise some serious questions would've had to have been asked. You can't be a brain _and_ fashionable, it's like... that thing about oil and washing."

"Don't worry, I'm so not a brain."

"Of course you're not. I was getting paranoid, I should've known all along you didn't write it."

Quinn gave a short, almost convincing laugh.

Jane turned to Daria as the drones left. "Hello hate, my old friend..." she started to croon.

"Quinn is worried about losing Sandi as a friend. I think _she_ needs to be the one having occupational therapy."

"Hey, some people may look at her and see something besides her petty, vindictive nature. Ms Li must look down on her from afar and see in her the daughter she never had."

"I can't believe Quinn isn't giving as good as she gets. That's... I can't think about this. I don't know how to fix it." She shook her head, trying to shake her thoughts away. "_Damn it_."

"Come on, let's head to Maths. We can forget Mr Ewing exists and snooze through the lesson."

"Sometimes, I wonder if _he_ remembers he exists..."

In class, they did indeed forget their teacher existed as his dull, toneless drone droned through them. Unfortunately for Daria, that just left her unable to forget about Quinn.

* * *

Daria had, by sheer luck, managed to avoid being called to Li's office. Her luck had run out now.

"I swear, I have no idea how my fingerprints ended up on that corpse."

Li's eyes widened and she moved towards the panic button under her desk, before realising Daria was being sarky. (You have one little nervous breakdown with loud public outbursts and get nothing but grief...)

"Ms Morgendorffer, I understand you've got quite the talent for music! That's the sort of talent we like to lionise and show off at Laaaawndale High – and we've got the venue for you! Have you heard of Cafe Lawndale?"

"That's the coffee house the school owns, right?"

"Precisely!"

"The one that's shut down three times?"

"Minor, teething issues – but the new re-opening is sure to be a hit and we'd like you to perform at it! We were wondering who to pressg- _to ask_ and Coach Sherman suggested you were a talented young lady!"

"Oh yeah. He's a big fan of my painting."

"We called up your parents and they informed us of your little gift with the guitar! It'd be a great opportunity to be seen!"

"I..."

She couldn't. Not in front of people. It was personal, private, just her and Trent. It was her soul, naked, exposed. It was her lifeline. She didn't want to show it, she didn't want to be stared at, she couldn't stand that, she didn't want to, no no.

"I'd rather not."

"It's entirely optional, though if you say no I will be forced to tell your parents and take disciplinary action, up to and including suspension if you mess up in the slightest," said Li, the teeth behind her painted smile showing. "Cafe Lawndale is too vital a cultural night-spot to lose!"

"And I'm sure all that talk about the profits being skimmed for your security projects are just crazy talk," said Daria viciously.

"As I say, Ms Morgendorffer: it's optional."

After the session, Daria headed to the bathroom and locked herself in and fought off the outbursts for ten minutes straight.

* * *

"_Chances gone/Nothing's free/Longing for what used to be"_

Daria roared out the lyrics, getting every frustration over the past week out into one ferocious, manic burst, exorcising the demons to die. Trent stood under the full force of it, mouth agape.

"_Hard to see/Fragile lives/SHATTERED DREAMS!"_

She finished it early, diverging from the sheet music into a random, angry scream of the strings. Breathing hard, sweating, exhausted.

And feeling a warm triumph at Trent's expression. Someone like him looking at her like that. Glorious.

"Daria..." He sounded nervous, something important on his lips. "I need to talk to you about something important."

Oh.

Oh wow.

"Yeah?" she mumbled.

"I think we should stop the lessons."

And the world fell out.

"You really don't need them. I mean, you can still use our basement to practice, but I can't teach you anything. I haven't been able to for a while now. You've gotten good _fast_."

_Don't tell me that, please – tell me I need more training, tell me I'm bad, don't let me leave._

"Oh. Kay."

"Uh, we can finish this lesson off if you want..."

_Yes a thousand times yes I never want to leave I want to stretch this out._

"No, that's fine."

"Okay, cool." He smiled, that smile that cut her off at the knees, and held out his hand. "It was _awesome _teaching you."

She looked at the hand, trying not to shake.

"Heh heh, he thinks we're c- _I'll do one last song after all_."

She barely stifled it.

* * *

She emerged from the basement as if in a dream. This week had been hell. Defeat after defeat and climaxing in this, and it was only going to get worse. Grove Hill was all around her, it hadn't let her ago.

Jane appeared as if from nowhere, carrying something in canvas. "Lesson done early? Ah, you will keep showing up my brother. You remember the name of chords."

"Mm."

"So yeah, I finished the painting." She whipped the canvas off. "Tada!"

It was a distorted figure, formed of violent slashes: an angry mess of colours in the form of a twisted girl, the guitar a curved hook. The face was a screaming mouth and glasses, the background white but burning around the figure and her voice. Violent, passionate, terrible, unstoppable.

"Now do I have my groove back or do I have my groove back? Even Kevin can get that one right!"

Daria smiled and felt her eyes grow wet. "You do. You truly do."

"You okay there, amiga?"

"I may be."


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Daria and Jane walked up to the Morgendorffer house, deep in philosophical discussion.

"No, you've not thought this through – Alien bleeds acid blood, Species is just a woman who can't remember how to put clothes on. She'd never survive. Alien all the way."

"Ah, but if she borrows Predator's blasters, she's got long-range!"

"Touche. It's not like he'll want them after the Krites have eaten him."

Daria opened the door, took a brief listen, and winced.

"You better take a hike. My mum's talking to my Aunt Rita. This isn't gonna be pretty."

She entered the house, deliberately ignoring as much of Helen's phone conversation as possible: she'd just spent the day at school, who needed more hassle? Bad enough she had the Café Lawndale performance looming overhead.

Her father, huddled under the newspaper, muttered "Your cousin Erin is getting married. You know there'll be _hell_ to pay."

"Not for Rita. Grandma will pay it for her."

Helen slammed the phone down. "Well, I guess you all heard the wonderful news. Little Erin is getting married. _At the Windsor Hills Resort in Leeville._" She grimaced. "Nothing but the best for Mum's favourite daughter's darling offspring…"

"Windsor Hills? They've got that legendary thirteenth hole!"

"Forget it, Jake, no golf. And Daria, I'm taking you and your sister out to get bridesmaid's dresses, so no disappearing."

"I thought bridesmaid's were people _close_ to the bride," said Daria. "I haven't seen Erin in four years and I didn't want to look at her then."

"This is about family, sweetie. Rita's going to remember you're _in_ it."

"Leeville's in Virginia, right?" she asked. "Um, that's not far from where my friend Amelia lives, after the wedding could-"

"No, Da-"

"Of course you can see your friend, kiddo!" said Jake, face beaming and his voice purposefully loud. "Go have some fun, paint the town _rad_, am I right?"

"Um, thanks Dad," she said in surprise, before looking at her mother to confirm.

Helen stood stunned: Jake _never_ blocked her like that. She looked to him, then to Daria, then back.

"Amelia's the one you wrote to, isn't she?"

"Yeah."

"Yes, if she's able to visit you can hang out with her after the wedding."

Her mother sounded sad, and that bothered her almost as much as her father speaking up. This was about guilt again. She wanted to get them to stop and be normal, but she always wanted them to _stay_ guilty for sending her to Grove Hills, and then _she_ felt guilty for that and aaarrrgg.

Still, Amelia gave her something to focus on. She could survive the next few days if that was in her future.

It was the days after that which were the problem.

* * *

Trent was out and the basement was free for guitar practice, but without him it just wasn't working. His absence was a black hole, sucking out her enthusiasm; her playing was a mess, nothing but discordance with her passion gone. Angrily, she swept the music sheets away.

Jane was waiting for her when she headed up, holding a sympathetic slice of cold pizza. "I bear gifts."

"How long has that been fossiling in your fridge?"

"Please, we don't put food in there. We want to live." She put the pizza down. "Having problems, huh?"

"I can't do it without Trent."

"You know you can. The coffee house thing is just messing you up and you want Trent to help get you through it, right?"

"I guess," she muttered. "I want to do something that'll really piss Li off, that'll horrify everyone listening, _but that still means playing in public._ If you decide to get back at Big Brother by mooning the spy cameras, you're still being spied on naked, you know? It's private, you don't want it to be seen."

"If you come up with a scheme, I'll back you to the hilt, y'know."

"Yeah."

"Amelia's always a pick-me-up for ya, maybe you just need to spend time with her. And hey, you'll get to see your cousin's husband and realise 'wow, things could be _much_ worse'!"

"Oh no, no," she said, smirking. "_He's_ the one marrying into _my_ family – he's got it the worst of all."

* * *

At the sight of the grand Windsor Hills building, Daria knew she had to crook her finger and growl "Redrum! _Redrum!_".

So she did.

"Redrum! _Redrum!_"

Quinn stared at her in horror and tried to back away into the car door.

"Oh come _on_," said Daria irritably. "I'm making a well-known American cultural reference."

"Sorry," she said. "It's just hard to tell sometimes if you haven't gone crazy again."

"…when that happens, you'll be the first to know."

Up in the cab, Helen was biting back her remark that Erin hadn't had the advantages her daughters had.

* * *

It couldn't be avoided. They were going to have to see Aunt Rita, and her mum was going to have to talk to her.

"Oh, the girls look lovely! But Daria, why didn't you get the same dress as the other bridesmaids?"

"I _did_."

"I'm sorry about the rehearsal dinner, Rita," lied Helen. "I had meetings all yesterday afternoon, and by the time we got on the road..."

"Everyone, this is Paul, my beau."

"Hello," smarmed Paul smarmily.

Jake looked stunned. "Paul Meyerson?"

"Jake?" He smiled and turned to Rita. "Jake and I were in Boy Scouts together! You bring your clubs, Jakey?"

"Yeah, they're in the car trunk," said Daria.

Jake blinked. "I don't… _remember_ packing them…"

"I did," said Daria, not daring to look at her mother's expression right now. "Hey, one good turn deserves another."

The conversation was interrupted by the roar of an emerging sports car. Daria was confused about who that could be until the faces of both Helen and Rita fell – since Grandma Ruth wouldn't be coming to a Barksdale wedding, that just left…

"Aunt Amy?"

And it was. And Amy was… _cool_. She walked in with confidence, cutting everyone down quickly and effectively, not having a care in the world. And when Daria added her own snark to the proceedings…

"Hey, what's the point of a senseless tragedy if you can't find a little humour in it? I like the way you think, Daria."

Maybe things would be fine after all.

* * *

Quinn's escort was a young, handsome man (of course) while hers was Luhrman, who looked bored with life itself (of course).

"So, Luhrman," said Daria, fumbling for conversation. "Is that your first name or your last name?"

"Does it matter?"

He then fell completely silent, seemingly unwilling to talk, show enthusiasm, or otherwise act like he was at a wedding.

Things _were_ fine.

"Luhrman, you're my second favourite person at this whole wedding and I'm being entirely serious here."


	6. Chapter 6

6.

It was great. The wedding was over, the minutes were ticking away until Amelia was showing up, and Luhrman was sitting in silence, which meant so could she. Victory.

"Would you like another soda?" asked Luhrman abruptly, making a bored stab at conversation.

"No thanks."

"Or shall we just split a bottle of drain cleaner?"

"Sure. It'll help wash away the taste of the buffet."

Slowly, Luhrman turned to look at her, mildly confused – she guessed he rarely got that sort of response.

"Daria!" Erin appeared with Whatsisname, beaming like Kevin after an insult had passed him by. "There you are! I can't believe I didn't get to see you before the wedding!"

"It was a lovely ceremony."

"Oh, but you haven't met Brian. Isn't he marvellous? He works for the government." She glanced around and whispered: "_Intelligence_."

"Really? I bet my good friend Ivan Stalinsky would love to know about that."

Brian smirked. "Ah, no point rebuking her, Dar- if our national security is compromised, you can bet there's a woman at the bottom of it!"

"Oh you," giggled Erin.

_Oh god,_ thought Daria. "I have to go to… er…"

"The little girl's room?"

"Yeah, the little girl's room," she said, feeling the contempt grow. "I'm going to powder my nose and check the seams on my nylons."

On her way out, she overheard Luhrman muttering: "I'm sorry, what did you say you do? I thought I heard intelligence, but that can't be right."

She liked that guy, she really did. With his help, she should be able to last the… what, twenty, thirty minutes before Amelia arrived without killing herself with Dad's golf clubs.

Outside the restroom, the minister of the ceremony was talking to Quinn. Daria wasn't paying much attention until a few words stuck out:

"… surging ocean of love, on which we, as mere individuals, have no control. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Normally, she'd walk on past with a minor snarky comment, knowing that Quinn was both oblivious and never, ever going to get involved with any guy sexually or this guy at all ("EWWWWW, he's OLD!"). But Quinn was being messed up with her job and Daria didn't know what to do about that – how to even get Quinn to admit it – so to hell with it.

"Father, which one's the commandment regarding sexual morality?"

Quinn blanched. "EWWWWWW! _Dar_ia, don't make me think about sex and you in the same - …ew, just EW!"

The minister had started to stammer while Quinn was talking, but fell silent when Daria looked at him, coldness in her eyes.

_Don't,_ they said.

In the bathroom, Amy was already there, adjusting her make-up.

"I hate myself in a formal dress, and everyone else, too. You don't look too thrilled about things, either."

" Oh, no," said Daria. "I'm overjoyed to be at this big family event. I have such fun with three family members on a day-to-day basis, who wouldn't want to hang out with even more of them? I can't wait to hear another thrilling anecdote about how someone last saw me when I was in diapers."

"There goes my line then," said Amy. "Let's see, you're in college now, or something."

" Still high school, unfortunately."

" I have some vague memories of high school, but these days, you all carry weapons, right?"

"Nah, that was back in Highland. I just acted as a spotter."

"Well, how are you ever going to be a cool kid without a gun, Daria?"

"If you think of some ways, tell me. Then I can safely avoid them."

Amy chuckled for a moment, then paused. "I remember hearing there _was_ a shooting in one of your classes in Highland."

"Yeah-" Daria suddenly shut her mouth.

She then realised that was the wrong thing to do, after Amy began to stare at her. She'd been too relaxed, she'd not thought before speaking. That was a mistake.

It had seemed no big deal. Earl had just been a guy she'd seen in school for years, his thuggish nature was just background noise because it wasn't directed at her. He had a gun? So what, he was only brandishing it at Beavis and Butt-head (and now they were wearing very bad disguises and calling themselves "Bung-head and Creavis", dear oh dear).

And then someone had taken a shot at the class, and she'd gone to the window to see who'd done it, expecting…

Well, expecting Earl to shoot back. That's why she'd announced that she could see the shooter and stood watching Earl, and everyone else in class seemed fine – the bastard had shot at them, of course they wanted Earl to shoot back. It was normal, it was fine.

And an hour later she'd thrown up in the bathroom and had to get her mother to pick her up and let her believe it was just the shooting itself that had wrecked her, that meant she couldn't walk and that she couldn't look in mirrors.

It had been stupid and she never told anyone and not she had and she was being stared at and this funny, brilliant aunt that she hadn't seen in years was just staring at her with obvious horror and she couldn't think of any music and

"Yeah, Early was pretty pissed! Hehehheh! He was all – 'van Driessen doesn't like people firing at him when he's dia… er… wanging photographysis! Fire FIRE! Heheeheh!"

Amy took a step backwards, still staring. Like she wanted to hide.

"And the other dude, like, ran off cos of warning shots and stuff, cos he was a total weiner! Hur hur hur! Bet he, like, wet himself, hur!"

_Stop it stop it focus dun dananaDUN danaDUN danaDANA—_

The outbursts crept back into their abyss, and now it was just Daria, Amy, and the shattered remains of any attempt of ever talking to her again.

"I… I gotta-"

She ran out.

* * *

Daria had been back at the table with Luhrman, hoping for sanctuary but only finding the other bridesmaids and their inane chatter. Daria spoke on autopilot, a lifeless mutter making up stories to get rid of them but it wasn't working. All the while she checked her watch for when relief was going to turn up (just another blessed minute _come on_), all the while she worried Amy was going to have words with her parents and then…

Well, she had no damn clue what then, but if they took her to another therapist and he decided on drugs –

"What do you do?" asked a bridesmaid she couldn't be bothered to remember the name of.

"I'm an exotic dancer. You know, at a club. I take my clothes off and dance for strange men."

"_Really?_ Wow…"

"She's really very good," said Luhrman.

"You've seen her?"

Daria smiled over at Luhrman – she wanted the conversation over but as far as he knew, she was stringing them along and he was _helping_. She could do with help.

"I'd better go check on Quinn," said Garrett, her escort, rising out of his seat. "I can't imagine what could be keeping her."

"She's not been back y-" Daria froze in mid-sentence. "She was talking to the minister last time I saw her. I thought he'd…"

"I see," said Garrett, and he clearly did.

He was going to deal with it. Okay. Time to go. Amelia could be here early, it'd be just like her. Leave it to others. Don't get involved, not somewhere where you'd need to show emotion to strangers. Go to where it'll be safe.

And across the room her mother and Aunt Rita were arguing, and oh god Aunt Amy had gone over and this might be it and she had to get out _now_ but that would mean going past them –

Anything could be happening to Quinn. Who was Garrett? He was a stranger. You can't trust them.

She had to get out she had to stay she had to focus on the music now NOW –

And there was Amelia. She was wearing a alt-band T-shirt and looked out of place and she knew it, but still she'd cautiously entered the building. She must have turned up early after all and decided to rescue Daria from the wedding. That was just like her.

She was coming over and smiling nervously, and outside there was fresh air and open space and few people around. Elsewhere, angry voices could be heard as the feuds exploded, but here was an escape. There was a way out, yet again Amelia was giving her a way out of hell.

Freedom.

But Quinn was back there and Garrett was a stranger and and and –

"Amelia, I have to go handle something first," she said before her friend could speak, and turned her back on freedom and descended onto the next circle.

* * *

She could hear the argument raging on. She ignored it.

Step followed step into the belly of the beast.

Raised voices ahead of her, male.

"I wonder if maybe _you're_ not the one with the confusing emotions."

"I'm not sure I take your meaning."

Step followed step, quicker.

"Oh I think you _do_."

She could see them. The minister had swung first but Garrett was striking back, but the advantage would be the ministers and Quinn was scared –

She began to run.

_"I AM CORNHOLIO! ARE YOU THREATENING ME?"_

Almost on the scene, almost there, ignore the fear, focus on rage, Garrett will fail, you have to deal with it yourself, hit, HIT, the new outburst bubbling in your gut like bile, let that one out and roll with it and do what you know you have to, LEAP ON HIM AND HIT NOW –

"**MR VAN DRIESSEN DON'T LIKE PEOPLE FIRIN'AT HIM WHEN HE'S DIAGRAMMIN' PHOTOSYNTHESIS!"**

From deep inside, she could tell Earl had leapt her body into the minister's back and was trying to tear into his neck and face, and then she could tell she'd been hit and everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

When she came to, everything was a blur – her glasses must have come off. She could hear something violent going on, but that was a blur itself. She could feel a throbbing pain on the left side of her head, and that was damn well in focus.

_How did I get here again? Earl decided to help Quinn, or… no, that wasn't it, or maybe it was, well sort of, hmm…_

_Do I have concof… concut… head injury? I shouldn't have my head lying flat if I do, I remember that, I should be supporting it with something. Should I try getting up? Why not._

Daria managed to sit up, but the burst of dizziness and nausea made her wish she hadn't. Still, she was up and she wasn't going to flop over again. Good. Now, if she could just work out where the wall was, she could support her own head.

"Daria!"

"Aunt Amy? No, that's not it – Amelia. Yeah, that's it. Excuse the brain damage."

Large blobs of colours appeared before her. "Daria, do you know what state you're in?" asked the blobs.

"Terrible," she replied.

"I kinda need serious answers."

"Virginia, and I'm currently in the Windsor Hills Resort, and I live in Lawndale, and Peter Parker is Spider-Man. I don't know where my glasses are."

The blobs moved away and came back with… well, two small black blobs. "The… er, they kinda broke in two. Can you hold the pieces…?"

Sighing, Daria put the two halves on her head and used her left hand to pinch them together. The blobs turned into a very worried Amelia.

"Why did you follow me?"

"You said you had something to do and the way it sounded, well, I thought you might need some help."

"Thank you." A memory came back. "Quinn?"

"Oh, was that who she was? She's gone, that guy's with her – the minister's gone too, he looked pretty beat up."

"I love a happy ending. Can you help me up?"

Amelia took her right hand and hauled her up; most of her dizziness had gone, and she found she could stand on her own. She could also hear further commotion.

"If the fight's over…"

"When I started after you, a bunch of women and guys started tearing into each other and the bride had run off crying and…"

"And they've probably seen the minister and Quinn… I've got a bruise, don't I?"

"Yeahhh."

Once she reached the reception, after what had happened, when the minister would clearly be claiming she was psychotic (she wasn't was she?) and Amy would link what she'd yelled to earlier, once she reached there and she would have to…

Daria looked at her friend with despair. "Please stay with me."

"Okay," said Amelia quietly.

* * *

The reception was a mess. Everyone was either yelling or sitting as far away as possible. Garrett was battered and bleeding and standing close to Quinn (and she clung to his arm like a port in a storm), the minister looked like he'd been hit by a truck; Aunt Rita and Helen had damaged dresses, Erin was crying silently with Brian nowhere to be seen; there seemed to be four arguments going on at once, all intermingling, with Helen either screaming at Rita & Amy about something or screaming at Jake and then turning to scream at the minister.

Jake saw her first and screamed. The minister turned round, catching sight.

"Your daughter attacked me! No cause, she tried to claw my eyes-"

"YOU HIT MY DAUGHTER?" roared Jake, his usual sound and fury having a vicious edge to it now.

"_She_ attacked _me_, sir! Screaming about some Mr Driessen and shooting, she's _mad_-"

"Oh god!" Amy covered her mouth, staring in horror. "Sh-Sh-She started talking about that earlier-"

"A GROWN MAN HAS TO PUNCH A LITTLE GIRL?"

"You're threatening her sister and you think she had no dang cause?" snapped Garrett, spitting his words out.

"-she started gibbering about that and someone called Earl and laughing about people being shot at, she said she'd helped with that shooting in Highland _Helen what is wrong with your goddamn daughter?_"

"See? SEE? The bitch is _mad_-"

"SPEAK LIKE THAT AGAIN AND"

"How _dare_ you suggest something's wrong with _Daria said what?_" Her mother looked at Daria with horror, horror mixed with anger. "NOW, Daria? You pretend that your pissing around with rock music is sorting it and NOW is the time you have to sn-"

"Your daughter's violently insane _and you knew it and brought her here as a goddamn bridesmaid?_" shrieked Rita, fury in eyes. "How dare you put Erin in-"

"NOTHING'S GAHDAMN WRONG WITH MY LITTLE GIRL"

"Hey, _hey_, this damn paedo was targeting Quinn and you people are-"

"She's a demon"

"Oh like you cared about Erin, letting her marry that ignorant-"

"What _are_ you doing about Daria? She's insane and trying to kill people-"

"Hur hur, dude, those people are pissed!" cackled Daria, tears running down her face and her voice a loud, ugly thing. "Heh, yeah, I bet, that buffet sucks! Yeah, we need some nachos! That'd be _cool_! Hehheheheh!"

"DARIA NOT HERE NOT NOW"

"GAHDAMN LAY OFF HER HELEN"

"She's like that and you brought her here you bitch"

"Fight fight fight! Hur hur hur hur! Yeah, that'd totally rock, I bet that chick there could totally whoop that other chick – and they could rip their dresses off, hur hur hur heh heh heh heh"

Amelia's arm was around her, pulling her in tight. Inside the meat robot, she could hear the girl's frantic breathing and see her starting to sweat. It felt warm, and she wished it could have felt safe, but too much was happening too fast.

"Come on Daria," Amelia's voiced a quick and panicked whisper, "let's go get those nachos, eh? You can tell me about that guy Kevin you know and how stupid he is, that'll be fun."

"Hheheheheh yeah he's a dumbass! Bet he wishes he could be as cool as us! Hur hur hur!"

"DARIA!" Her mother's shriek cut through the noise like a knife. "You are NOT leaving this room, young lady! Stay where you are!"

"M-M-Mrs M-Morgend-d-dorffer, I r-really think Daria would be better off outside," said Amelia, sending on the verge of crying.

"So you can _encourage_ her to be a damn mess like you've done so far, oh I think _not_"

"**LET HER GO!" **

Jake's roar silenced everyone.

"She's going! She's leaving! She's not staying her and being- being called- SHE CAN GO!"

In the brief pause, Amelia almost ran, dragging Daria towards the door as the girl giggled – "that angry dude is _cool_!" – before anyone could say anything. As they went, the last thing they saw was the minister beginning to talk and then Jake striking him like the wrath of God.

"**HOW DARE YOU THREATEN MY GIRLS?"**

The door slammed shut and left the chaos behind, and Daria found herself crying into Amelia's chest.


	8. Chapter 8

8.

Outside, the night was calm and cool and you couldn't hear the screaming. It had taken Daria a few minutes to stop crying, and then to shift slightly away from Amelia so she wouldn't be involved in physical contact, and now she just sat in silence.

They could have sat like that for a while, Daria not wanting to talk and Amelia unable to break the silence, if not for the police cars arriving, sirens whinging into the night. The Resort staff must not have taken kindly to the near-riot breaking out.

"Um… unless you want to talk to the cops, we should probably-"

"Okay."

The two girls got up and began to walk, taking the path the police cars weren't taking.

"Do you need to leave at a certain time?" asked Daria, her voice sounding dead.

"My brother said he'd give me two hours and then we're going home, but if you need me to-"

"You don't need to get drawn into this mess."

"But _you_ need someone. Right?"

Daria looked at her. "Amelia, this is twice we've met up outside of camp and both times you had to put up with a lot because of me. Why do you stay around me?"

"You're my friend." She began to fidget, clearly not wanting to keep talking. "And… like I said before, you, y'know, give me a better idea of what to do. I get nervous and overwhelmed and, and I don't like myself and I don't know what to say, but you help me – you either tell me or just the idea of you, you help me figure things out, get confidence to do what I want, explain things…"

"You may have blotted this from memory and I don't blame you, but five minutes ago I was a screaming wreck crying into your shirt. _I'm_ who _you_ turn to for confidence?"

"You're not always like that, Daria. And when you are, then… well, you've helped me and helping's what friends do, right?"

"I've just noticed something: I'm actively trying to make you go 'yeah, why am I here' and then leave. Sorry."

"'s cool. Though next time, can I be the one who has the breakdown and you have to comfort? You're hogging all the cryfests."

"You _have_ been learning from me. I give that a B plus."

"Where are we walking _to_, anyway?"

"Good question, I was focused on the away part. I figure we'll be safe when we reach Canada."

Behind them, they could hear footsteps approaching – fast ones.

"Okay, Amelia, repeat after me: 'we didn't see anything, copper'. And, possibly, 'my friend Benjamin says you didn't see us' if you have any money on you."

"I only got thirty dollars on me in tens."

"Okay, 'my friend Alexander says you didn't see us and his friends Alex and Xander agree with him'."

"We could sell ourselves to them but who'd be buying?"

"Now that's an A minus."

The footsteps were upon them, and Daria turned and saw to her horror that it was Erin, her eyes blood-red and her breath ragged and her whole body tense with rage. On instinct, she edged closer to Amelia.

"YOU!"

The two girls automatically stopped as Erin yelled. She stood there, quivering, like she was about to explode.

"This was – this was my _wedding_, _my special day_, and your mother just – everyone could _see and hear_ and she – and then _Mum_ just…" She screwed up her eyes and screamed: "WHAT IS WRONG WITH OUR MUMS?"

"I can't even _begin_ to answer that one." She winced. "Sorry, that probably wasn't the best thing to say at this p-"

"They weren't even _pretending_ to care they were making a scene at _my wedding!_ And, and Mum just keeps going on about _you_ and says she cares about me there, but where was she when it came to Brian and-" Her rant ground to a terrified halt. "_Oh gawd_, you didn't hear that Daria!"

"Er, oka-"

"It was just a brief thing and it wasn't a big deal _and then I found out he'd given me herpes and I never loved him but I had to marry him because no one else was ever going to want meeee!_"

"Gah!"

There was a long, long silence after that.

"I'm afraid I did hear that one, Erin."

"I don't know what to do."

She didn't say "tell me" but it came through loud and clear. Daria glanced at Amelia, sensed no leading, and tried to think what Jane would do.

"You want to come with us and see if there's a place that does pizza?"

Erin nodded.

* * *

There was a Pizza Forest that was still open. The costumed woodland creatures had attempted to sing but Daria had stared at them until they ran away.

"If we share a pizza, we should be financially covered," said Amelia, "and by 'we' I mean 'me'."

"We'll pay back. Honest."

"You know, I haven't had pizza in _years_," said Erin. "Mum and her dates always took me to fancier places."

"If it wasn't for pizza, I'd only have frozen lasagne to live on and my taste buds would have atrophied through lack of use."

"My parents keep telling me to stay away from junk food because of my weight and skin complexion."

Erin frowned. "But Amelia, your weight and skin's fine."

"Mum's isn't."

"Ahh. That thing."

"It's a pity Aunt Amy doesn't have a daughter, then we'd have a hat trick," mused Daria.

"Aunt Amy's _weird._ Like, really weird."

"I liked her." She frowned. "I don't really want to think about it."

"You like people? When did that happen?"

"Lazy, Amelia. A C at best."

"A C?"

"I'm grading her on her ability to be rude, obnoxious, and sarcastic."

"Those are Daria's qualities that I admire the most!"

"That one's a B."

"Ha! Wish someone had taught me to do that," chuckled Erin.

"Hey, we got some free time…"

* * *

"…and hey, Paul, your hair colour seem to be… _dripping_?" Erin took another bite from the pizza. "How's that?"

"Good dig, but a bit too sneery. Try to flatten your voice, add a bit of concern for 'dripping'. It gives it an edge."

"I don't think I _can_ flatten my voice to be like yours."

"Let me try." Amelia cleared her throat, and began to mumble: "Hi. I'm Daria. Go to hell."

"You showed a facial expression. D minus."

The pizza had almost gone by the time Jake arrived, his suit a mess and his face frantic, with Luhrman in tow.

"_Daria!_ Oh thank God! I didn't know where you'd gone to and I wasn't sure where anything was, but Luhrman thought you might've gone for pizza-!"

"I like pizza," droned Luhrman.

"_I was so worried you might've got hurt or ended up in a ditch_ oh hey Erin!" Jake immediately calmed and went into a grin. "One last night out with the girls before the honeymoon, eh?"

"I'm thinking of getting a divorce."

On instinct, Jake glanced around for a newspaper to hide behind. Finding none, his smile started to die.

"Oh, erm… good for you?" He immediately turned to Daria. "Kiddo, about what happened… Your mother didn't mean it-"

"Yes she did."

"…yeah, she did. But, well, I meant what I said too. And… er, what I'm trying to say is… I…"

It was clear he wanted to say something, and something that had been bottled up. He struggled with it, opened and shut his mouth, and finally gave up.

"Hey, kiddo, how'd you like to learn how to play golf?"

"Well, I had no other plans." She stood up, then thought of something she'd never have believed would be an issue. "Can my friends come along?"

"I'd like to come too," said Luhrman.

* * *

Rob checked his watch again, and the hands still stubbornly told him that Amelia should've been back fifteen minutes ago. She'd forgotten it was only for two hours.

_That bitch is a bad influence on her._ He sighed and switched the car radio in. _Screw it, better Daria than nobody I guess._


	9. Chapter 9

9.

The car had an atmosphere akin to the Secretariat during Stalin's reign, and everyone was waiting to see who Helen was going to white out of the party history first.

They'd been driving for three minutes when she snapped out: "Mother called. She's blaming _us_ for this debacle. All of us! Bad enough the mess at the reception but when you somehow convince Erin to call for a divorce _the day after the wedding_, well! Rita will never speak to me again!"

"So I've done you a favour."

"NOT FUNNY, DARIA! I don't want to hear any of your attempts at wit and your snide remarks, not after what you've done! I'm ashamed of you, I really am!"

* * *

The Windsor Hills green had been huge. A confused staff member had been roped into shining a torch on their playing, and Jake had showed Daria and Amelia the basics. Erin turned out to have played before, as had Luhrman ("that was the last day I showed any emotion").

Jake did okay, but Erin was knocking them out of the park. Daria, to her annoyance, took a full five minutes to hit the _ball_, and the resort worker winced at the amount of grass she was tearing up.

"If you hit the grass far enough, we'll count that as a ball!" called Amelia.

"B plus," Daria snarled back, before finally knocking the ball… the wrong way.

"Dad, I've changed my mind about this game and the principle of trying new things."

* * *

"…and I can't believe you, Jake – you're damn lucky Paul smoothed things over with the cops, you'd have been down for assault if the minister had been given the chance!"

"But Helen, he'd been-"

"You think it'd _matter_ in court what he'd been doing? No, it would _not_! Not if he'd only been talking! And damn it _Quinn_, why didn't you come to us sooner? What did you think was going on?"

"Well, I kinda thought he was preaching for the first few minutes and it's only when Garrett got angry that I…" Her voice trailed off and she looked down, uncharacteristically quiet and beaten down.

"Helen, let's be reasonable-"

"Punching people and then disappearing until TWO IN THE MORNING is reasonable Jake?"

* * *

"Come on, kiddo!" whispered her dad, the most enthusiastic he'd been in years. "You've almost got it! One more put…"

Skin marred with sweat and eyes narrowed, she tapped the ball once more…

In!

"YOU DID IT KIDDO **WHOOOOOOOOO!** WHOMP – THERE IT IS!"

Erin and Amelia raised their clubs like swords in celebration. _"Whomp – there it is!"_

"Whomp. There it is." Luhrman.

Daria smiled. "Look at that. A hole-in-forty."

* * *

"We're going to look into finding you another therapist, clearly this isn't working, not if you do – for Christ's _sake_, Daria! And that thing about Highland that Amy mentioned, I can't even _think_ about that right now, what the hell were you thinking? We've been letting you slide for too long with your misanthropy, I won't have it any longer _are you paying attention young lady!_"

"Helen, Daria's doing the best she c-"

She glared at him and he fell silent. Whatever fight he'd had the day before had clearly been lost during the night, during whatever had happened when he'd gone to their hotel room.

"We'll be lucky if anyone from my family speaks to us again…"

After that, everyone fell quiet for the rest of the journey. And it was a long few hours back to Lawndale.

* * *

"…oh yeah, Paul's always taking my mother and I golfing," said Erin. "The further I hit the ball, the further away I get from him talking."

"Oh, I hear ya," muttered Jake darkly. "Always in Boy Scouts he was 'lookit me, I got a better mountain bike then everyone aren't I awesome worship me!' and at the reception he was all "meh meh meh I did this I have a big weenie!' and DAMN IT PAUL I WANT TO TALK SOMETIME!"

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that myself, but that's about right."

As they chatted away, Daria turned to Luhrman. "So what relation _are_ you to the bride?"

"You know that bridesmaid you've forgotten the name, face, and existence of? She's mine and Garrett's sister."

"_You're_ related to _Garrett?_"

"Fraternal twin. He got the looks, I got the charm." Pause. "Obviously I am lying."

"Um, he wasn't too badly beaten up, right?"

"You came in at the nick of time. I would say thanks but that would imply I have connections to other human beings. I cannot admit to such things, Daria."

"Your cousin Erin's cool," remarked Amelia, as Erin laughed her head off at something Jake had said.

"Surprisingly so. Does this mean Jane has a rival for your affections?"

"She sends me photos of her artwork." Amelia's voice was small and nervous. "I wish I lived in Lawndale like you do."

"Well, there's no place like Lawndale. Though Hell is a close second."

* * *

The car pulled into the driveway, and everyone leapt out of it gratefully to get some air. Still no one spoke, afraid of bringing Helen down on their heads.

Daria reached out and held Quinn back, letting the parents enter the house first.

"Oh god, you're not trying to do some sister bonding, are you?"

"I've got Garrett's address and phone number."

Quinn's mouth gaped open. "He's fallen for _you?_"

"He was very impressed by my ability to get knocked out – _no_, Quinn, I'm passing it on to you. Sometimes, if you're in a bad place and you can't talk to anyone around you, it's nice to have a friend who lives somewhere else that you can talk to. Not that I'm applying anything."

Her sister took the contact details, looking at her with a mix of gratitude and wariness. "Um, thanks. For… this and y'know."

"I swear I won't tell any of your friends that I helped you at something."

"Oh thank god!"

"Stay classy, sis."

* * *

Amelia putted the ball into the whole, and the gang unleashed the chorus of Whoomp! There it Is once more. Daria sounded unnaturally enthusiastic.

"Congratulations," said Luhrman afterwards. "You are good at hitting something with something else."

"Not happy I'm beating your score, eh?"

"I'm always happy."

"We may need a new song," said Daria. "Dad, are there any good ones you remember from back in the day?"

Soon, the gang were walking off proclaiming they were Sgt Pepper' Lonely Hearts Club Band.

* * *

"You're coming straight home after school on Monday," said Helen, her face tight. "You will be doing this for the rest of the week as well. Jane will not be coming here with you. I will take you to Café Lawndale and back again on Tuesday, because believe me you're _not_ getting out of doing some actual extracurricular work, Daria. Your therapy session is on Saturday, and I'll be giving your doctor a piece of my mind that day."

"I'll need to practice for Tuesday."

"You'll do it at _home._ Just… keep the noise down."

"Mum, the idea of performing at the café makes me feel sick. Physically. I get nervous and I pace and I am worried that once I'm on stage I will start to outburst-"

"I'm not listening to your excuses here! That quack claimed playing the guitar will help you, you claimed it did too, then you play it! And I won't have you using your problems to get out of work! Oh no, we've let you be too sullen and withdrawn, things are going to change."

"You don't want me to be withdrawn and yet you want to cut me off from my only friend at school."

"I've _seen_ what state you've been in with your 'friends' helping you-"

She got up and walked to her room while her mother screamed at her back. She didn't come down for the rest of the day.

* * *

"The thirteenth hole!" Jake sounded like a burning bush was talking to him. "It's real, it's really _real!_"

"First person to conquer it is the overall winner!" crowed Erin.

"You're on!"

"Okay, now I've got motivation," said Daria.

"That's a good one," said Luhrman, as flat as ever.

"You can all kiss my grass, I'm getting this!" Amelia thrust her club into the air. "There can only be ONE!"

"_We're Sergeant Pepper's Lonely, Sergeant Pepper's Lonely…"_

* * *

Monday came and went in a blur of boredom and ostracisation and strange brown slop for lunch. Both O'Neill directly and Li of Minilove via the tannoy system had reminded everyone of Café Lawndale and which classes were 'expected' to turn up. O'Neill had also nabbed her after class and told her how he was looking forward to the "heart-felt musical experience you have for us!".

Coach Sherman had mentioned it too. Or rather, he'd smirked and whispered "shouldn't have messed with Tommy Sherman, misery bitch".

DeMartino had been present when Li had reminded everyone of the Café, and his grimace spoke a thousand words. He also spoke "I'm so GLAD the school can fund a DEN for students to IGNORE HOMEWORK rather than buying TEXTBOOKS!", which was eighteen words.

He'd also caught her after class and muttered "I am FORCED to be there on Opening Night TAKE FIVE - Daria, you're one of my BEST students, I BEG you, please do something GOOD". His eyes were full of pleading and veins.

She'd touched base with Jane, who'd helped her plot out what she was going to need.

"I can also start a fire if you really need an excuse to book," said Jane, "and I'm not joking here, I will really start a fire."

"The poetry readings are bad then."

"_All_ the acts are bad. That's why the Café keeps going under. But that's not why-"

"I've got Li _and_ Mum pushing for this, and they'll find something else if I get out of this. I have to do something that will prevent Li from _ever_ daring to do this again. But… if it goes wrong, then-"

"Then it's fire time."

As ordered, Daria went home from school straight after. And the first thing she did was call up Quiet Ivy and ask to speak to Dr Jean-Michel.

"If I'd known about this before, I'd have written you a note forbidding your principal to do this," he said.

"I actually didn't think of that. I got too stressed and… well. Is there anything extra I can do now that'll help?"

"I'll tell you what, Ms Morgendorffer. After work, I will drive in the general vicinity of Café Lawndale and I may decide to stop in to see if American coffee has developed any taste yet. I suppose someone might talk to me after performing if they wanted, I'm a very approachable person. It's good to have people to talk to, don't you find?"

"Thanks, Jean-Michel."

* * *

Amelia had taken a camera to Leeville with her. After the game (Erin won), they'd taken a few photos.

Daria and Jake, a proud father with a bemused daughter.

Daria and Amelia, having a lightsaber fight with the clubs.

All the girls together, making faces.

Daria and Luhrman, expressionless.

The whole crowd, raising their clubs to the sky in triumph.


	10. Chapter 10

10.

The nearer she got to Tuesday night, the worse Daria felt. Her stomach was full of acid and she was sweating, and she'd have to go through the notes every so often to avoid outbursts. She'd managed to blank out for the entirety of Maths but, luckily, Mr Ewing was used to people doing that and hadn't picked up on it.

The one bright spot: Jane muttering "everything's set up, and I've ensured Trent will be awake. Well, I _will_ ensure. I have heavy boots."

T minus six hours and counting.

* * *

Café Lawndale, inside and out, gleamed the gleam of the newly cleaned – the 'oops we waited until the last minute' clean. A proud banner outside proclaimed "OPENING NIGHT", though some wag had crossed three of the letters out and added an S and H. Attendance was high though, Li had seen to that.

"I'll pick you up straight after you're finished," said Helen, not looking at her as Daria got out of the car. "No staying."

"You're not coming to watch my marvellous display of talent and achievement?"

Her mother didn't answer that one.

Two minutes later, running slightly behind, the Tank pulled up. Even with the stress and nerves gnawing at her like rabid dogs, Daria flushed at the sight of Trent – first she'd seen him in over a week, still the same as ever, and smiling in her direction.

"I brought Max and his drum kit. Also the battery amp." He chuckled, which turned into a cough. "Plug your guitar into that and you can't be cut off."

"Thanks", she said quietly.

She wanted to say more – had to say more, wanted to beg him to stay and to help her and to admit how she felt – but Max ruined the moment by stepping out of the van and managing to drop his drums on the ground.

"We get free coffee outta this, yeah?"

"I've heard about the coffee here. They should pay you to drink it."

The moment was lost. She had to enter.

No turning back.

* * *

The other acts were… well, let's be polite and say of the nine before hers, Daria only bothered to remember three. One was Andrea's poetry reading, which was pretty bad but in an amusing way; the other was the Fashion Club doing a catwalk, which was bad _and _dull but in a way that lent itself to sarcastic quips; and the third was Upchuck singing Mustang Sally, which was something it would never be possible to forget.

"I don't remember that song having pelvic thrusts."

"Our boy thinks outside the box," said Jane.

"We need a bigger box."

"Is it time to go yet?" muttered Max, bored to tears.

Daria had time to scan the audience, sitting around their tables and in little coves. The teacher's had their own table, with Li, tense beyond measure, at the head (it was a round table but still she gave the impression of being at the head of it): profits and losses danced in her head. DeMartino was tenser still, on the verge of exploding. And Coach Sherman…

Coach Sherman had seen her looking and smiled back. It was not a nice smile.

You expect me to suffer. You're hoping for it. Well, keep smirking, hate's a good motivator.

In the back, keeping to himself, was Jean-Michel. He gave her a quiet nod. Some of the bile in her stomach settled at that.

"You're up next, amiga," said Jane, nudging her. "Best rouse Max."

"You'll do fine, Daria," said Trent, sounding like he really thought that and making her want to start crying.

"I don't have to worry about being overshadowed by the competition, I guess."

It was a long walk to the stage, slow and terrible, the guitar lead in her hands. Max got there before her, positioning his drums and looking fed up, hardly a help. She didn't – _couldn't_ – look at the crowd yet, no.

She ran the notes in her mind again and again, focusing on that, trying to avoid thinking about the terror and the need to vomit and keeping down the screaming voices.

And then she was on the stage and had to turn round and oh GOD too many people. Kevin and Brittany and their hordes, and the Fashion Club with Quinn looking embarrassed to be witnessing it, and Sherman smirking away and no, can't focus on that, don't focus on the people who want you to fail or expect you to fail. There's Jane and Trent, near and yet so far, and the doctor in the back, focus on them and damn it why couldn't Mum be here and hell Ms Li just announced her name and Max was starting the drum beat and play play PLAY

The guitar wailed like a dying cat as she messed up the first notes.

Somebody laughed.

"I'm Irn Mn," she mumbled into the mike, losing her concentration and the train and messing up the next bit.

Shut your eyes, concentrate on the tune, play it – daaa, daa, dan-dah-dah, danananana daaa-nah-DAH!

Almost unnoticed by her, she began hitting the right notes.

"Daaa, daa, dan-dah-dah, danananana daaa-nah-DAH"

Her boot was tapping out the beat, and abruptly changed its pattern as she went into the first verse.

"_Has she lost her mind/Can she see or is she blind/Can she walk at all/Or if she moves will she FALL?"_

All feeling had dropped away. There was only the music, and the music to come. She didn't even know she was moving.

"_Am I alive or dead/Have I thoughts within my head/You'll just pass me there"_

Her eyes snapped open on instinct as her mouth curled up into a snarl.

"_YOU ALL KNOW YOU DON'T CARE!"_

She stared down the crowd as she played on, imagining she could see her mother, that she could make her a fixed point for her wrath and get her to _notice_. Some of the audience thought she was looking at them and pressed back into their seats, as if to escape; the rest looked uneasy, caught off guard by the rage. Li was ashen-faced.

Max, she briefly noted, had stopped playing after she'd screamed and was trying to get his groove back.

Next beat, focus:

"Daaa, daa, dan-dah-dah, danananana daaa-nah-DAH"

Trent and Jane thrust up two-fingered 'rock out' salutes into the air, and _joined in._ Daria grinned, wide and with teeth, and she could hear one of Quinn's friends cry out at it.

"_She was turned to steel/In the great magnetic field/When she travelled time/For the future of all mankind!"_

Li was making gestures for someone to cut the power, not knowing she was stuffed before she started. O'Neill looked on the verge of tears, Sherman staring in disbelief and slight fear (_that's right, Tommy-boy, I'm crazy, DON'T MESS)_ and DeMartino was…

Was looking at the reactions of the other teachers and _grinning._

"_Nobody wants me/I just stare at the world"_

The coffee house lights snapped off, sending everyone into a ill-lit darkness – at the worst possible time in the song that Li could have chosen:

"_Planning my VENGEANCE THAT I WILL SOON UNFOLD!"_

O'Neill really broke into tears at that point, Li into babbling that couldn't be heard over the music, and screams and hyperventilating came from the Fashion Club table as Stacy stared at Daria in fear. Quinn, too, was staring in horror – and Jodie and Mack, but was collateral damage –

"Daaa, daa, dan-dah-dah, danananana daaa-nah-DAH"

Everyone at school she hated and wanted to back down, all of them were freaking out as the bile and frustration poured out of her like blood. Li and O'Neill and Tommy goddamn Sherman, see them try anything now, see if the Fashion Club or Tori Jericho or whoever the hell that guy was over there, see if they dared cross her now SEE THIS HELEN –

"_Now the time is here/For Iron Me to spread FEAR/Vengeance from the grave/NONE OF YOU TO BE SAVED!"_

And Helen was there, she had actually come in early and entered some point during the song and was staring, well she could keep staring –

"_Nobody wants me/they just turn their heads!"_

That cut deep, it showed on her face it cut deep. Good.

Li had gotten out of her seat. Stacy had buried her head in Quinn for comfort.

"_Nobody helps me/NOW I HAVE MY REVENGE!"_

Li had reached the stage and yanked the mike from Daria – she played on, Max had stopped playing at some point she couldn't remember and Li was now yelling "THANK YOU MS MORGENDORFFER THAT'S ALL WE HAVE TIME FOR!", but she continued to play. The principal had to physically yank the guitar's cable from the battery pack.

Daria came crashing down: she was exhausted, soaked with sweat and with matted hair, and people were staring at her as if afraid of her. She took heavy breaths, trying to calm herself, and walked off the stage feeling as if her legs were going to give out. Jane met her halfway, helping support the weight.

"Um, when I said 'nobody wants her' and all that, I didn't mean you or Tr-"

"Well, _duh_." Jane was smiling at her, and ahead she could see Trent smiling too: pride. "I'd say you've just alienated your classmates but that ship sailed long ago."

"I may have killed the Fashion Club. But on the downside…"

Now the music was gone and she was just a tired girl, the nervousness could come back. Now she could realise she may have gone too far with her mother watching, and again she felt she was approaching something worrying.

And so it was a great relief to find Dr Jean-Michel with her mother, leaving her with a fixed 'polite' smile.

"Ah, Daria, what a coincidence! I was just telling your mother, you seem to have a good grip on that therapy session – feeling better after purging those negative emotions, I trust?"

"A bit. I think I purged half my throat too though."

"Well, I shouldn't keep you if you and your mother have places to be." He shook Helen's hand before he left. "Your daughter's doing very well, you should be proud."

Helen said nothing.

A few seconds later, she mumbled that she'd get the car ready and went outside, leaving Daria with Jane for a bit longer.

"You worried what she's going to do on the drive home?"

"Nah. I think the one-two whammy she's been through will keep her silent for the rest of the night. After that…" Daria shrugged. "At least Li and Sherman are going to be off my back after that, at least for a while."

"Not much of a 'Daria Triumphant', is it?"

"It's good enough for the moment. Whatever comes up next, I'll deal with it." She smiled. "Maybe with a little help from my friends."

"You wanna get high, you're buying your own."

"I bet tomorrow, I can make Mr O'Neill cry again just by answering a question."

"You're on!" The smile dropped from Jane's face. "Stay safe, Daria."

"Watch my flank."

The girl headed out into the night, to face the unknown future.

_One – two – ah one two three…_

**END**


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